


Thanatos

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 06:30:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/353141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex and Clark are sick fucks. Love is not unadulterated sweetness. This fic contains extreme violence within the context of a complex established, and arguably dysfunctional, relationship. Content may disturb.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanatos

## Thanatos

by suzycat

<http://suzycatsfic.livejournal.com>

* * *

Thanatos 

Lex can't concentrate, and he's not happy. He pushes back his cuff, checks his watch. It's been five hours, and the discreet personal alarm tucked into his pocket remains immobile. He's checked the battery and he knows it works. He's had enough. 

When Clark finally opened up to Lex about his alien origins, it wasn't a surprise, but the extent of his power was. It had been exciting to take his lover apart, metaphorically speaking, to see how he ticked. Somehow the body Lex thought he knew pretty well became exhilaratingly foreign terrain, a whole new world to explore and conquer. He felt, sometimes, like Napoleon in Egypt - or, if he was truthful, one of the idealistic young men who came after him, heads full of opium dreams of exotic whores in blue-tiled hammams. What he found was infinitely more complex, rarer and more beautiful too, but far darker than he'd ever dreamed. 

"It's not you, Lex. It's me," Clark said to him one day as Lex lay, exhausted, dripping, and wondering whether he should check his family medical history for early heart disease. 

"That," he said, between gasps, "is the single most clichd response to trouble in the bedroom I ever heard. I know the prefabricated phrase is a staple of daily journalism, Clark, but frankly I'm offended. You could think of something more original." 

"Lex." Clark, dry-skinned and barely flushed, looked down at him with understanding eyes. Lex resisted the urge to punch him. 

"Don't feel sorry for me. I happen to be a very good lover." 

"When your partner's human, yes," Clark said. 

"Thank you very much." 

"And when he's alien, too. Lex, you know I think you're amazing. You are amazing. It's just that sometimes I need more than even you can give, you know?" 

"Why?" 

Clark rolled onto his back and exhaled slowly. 

"I'm not exactly sure," he said at last. "It's just that - I love it so much, and sometimes I never want it to end. I feel like if you could just fuck me long enough and hard enough, then maybe I could - I dunno. Maybe come so hard that it would all go away." 

Lex looked at him steadily. "You think a really good orgasm will rid you of the guilt you still feel about the meteor shower. About the death of Lana's parents and the danger your secret brought to your friends and family." 

Clark pouted. "I hate it when you psychoanalyse me." 

"And here was me thinking you liked it when I play doctor. Clark, no matter how good it is, sex isn't going to solve your emotional problems. It doesn't solve anybody's. Believe me, I know." 

"Maybe it wouldn't solve my problems," Clark conceded. "But it would make me feel better." 

Lex didn't know what to say to that. 

"I'm sorry," Clark said. "It's not like you don't do your very best for me. I appreciate it, I really do." He smiled, that blinding smile. "Most of the time everything's great. I worry, though. I don't want to wear you out." 

"Maybe you don't have to," Lex said. "Did I ever introduce you to the idea of a dildo?" 

That was how it started. Dildos in varying sizes, all very hard, some restraints, a blindfold, a camera. Lex was slightly dismayed at how enthusiastically his pure-souled virgin farmboy took to perversion. Slightly. Mostly he was wildly turned on. He came to recognise the subtle changes in Clark that signalled his need to be controlled. It usually started with more silence, a brooding look, a slight irritableness. It often occurred when something traumatic happened - a house fire rescue where the victim inhaled too much smoke to survive, a car crash Clark was too late to prevent. Their play became more intense. And then Lex bought what they fondly referred to as The Machine. 

"Oh, my God." Clark's mouth hung open in amazement. In the centre of the room was a metal rack, with manacles and a lever-operated pulley mechanism. Behind it, something that looked a bit like a cannon, if a cannon had a ten inch fist-thick replica of a cock attached. 

"Look at this," Lex said enthusiastically, forgetting he was playing the masterful sexual sophisticate for a moment. "It's really very simple, but the concept is ingenious. We just set it up, turn it on," he flicked a switch, "and voila. You get fucked as long as you want." 

Clark watched the machine grind into motion, thrusting its cock into air. "Uh - yeah." 

"You can adjust the speed, using this." Lex pressed a small remote control into Clark's hand. "It's completely under your command. It also comes with a variety of, uh, attachments. I figured you'd start at huge and work your way up to fucking enormous." 

Clark was still blinking stupidly, eyes fixed on Lex's gift. "Lex, this is - this is incredible, but ..." 

"Clark, this is the answer to both our problems," Lex said, slipping an arm around Clark's shoulders and drawing him close. "Lexcorp needs a great deal of my attention right now. You know I have the German management team arriving this week, and the demands on my time are only going to become greater. This way, we both get what we want." 

He pressed his mouth to Clark's ear. "When you're ready, we come down here. I strip you. I tie you to that rack and I fuck you. After that, I watch the machine fuck you. When I get the call from Amy, I absent myself for however long this meeting takes, and you keep yourself happy until I return. When I might decide to fuck you again." 

"Do it," said Clark, his voice strangled. "Do it now." 

Lex smiled. "I think I have time. First of all, though," he said, unzipping his fly, "you're going to have to blow me." 

It seemed like such a good idea at the time, Lex thinks, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Until Clark started using the machine on his own and Lex became unreasonably jealous of it. They'd come to an agreement that Clark could only use the machine if Lex was around. That was where the personal alarm came in. When Clark had had enough, he pressed a small button to call Lex. Only Lex could turn the machine off and unbind Clark, and each session would finish with Lex fucking Clark's softened, open ass while Clark wrapped his arms around Lex's neck and whispered exhausted words of love. 

Lex looks at his watch for the seventeenth time. Five hours, twenty minutes, fourteen seconds. It's never been this long before. But it's Clark, he tells himself. Nothing can go wrong. 

It hits him. Clark is wearing the necklace, the tiny pierced lead ball on a chain - their private joke - with the sliver of processed Kryptonite inside. The one that allows him to feel pain, to bleed. Clark's "I want to feel human" sex toy. He forgot. Oh, God. 

Lex is out of the office and running down the stairs to the War Room so fast that his secretary, Amy, barely gets a surprised syllable out before he's gone. Jesus. Five hours. Clark could be dead. A horrible picture of Clark, prone, immobile and bloody, comes into his head and refuses to go away. 

He knows Clark is all right before he reaches the War Room door, knows because he can hear Clark groaning, and nobody could still groan after five hours' relentless assfucking unless their superhuman powers were intact. He throws open the door. In the mirror that now covers the back wall, that reflects the view from above which Clark loves to watch so well, he sees everything. 

Clark is naked on his back, wrists rubbed raw by their manacles. His spread legs are held open by metal bands at the knees. His torso is covered with fresh and drying come. A massive black rubber dildo, cocklike at the top, studded with large metallic beads around its base, slides into his ass, which is wet with lube and, God, blood. He's fucking himself with it, bucking fiercely around it, moving as much as his restraints will let him. His thick, red cock bounces with each thrust and Lex watches with something like horror as it hardens. Already he can see the bead of liquid at its eye, see Clark's belly flushing red, see it spurt as Clark moans in the back of his throat. Clark's head falls to one side and Lex hears his breath coming in short, hissing gasps, watches him continue, impossibly, to writhe on the phallus that impales him. He knows Clark is watching it. The room is all mirrors now. On every wall, there are multiple machines, multiple Clarks, but not, as yet, multiple Lexes. 

He is watching his lover fuck himself to death. He feels his fury rise like his own cock is rising. 

"Fuck this." Lex is in the centre of the room, shutting down the machine, tearing it out of Clark, who moans and writhes and frowns. 

"No," he says, his voice thick. "More." 

Lex slaps him. It feels good, the crack of Clark's cheekbone under his hand. "Fuck you." He unlocks the manacles, pulls Clark's wrists and legs free. "Get up. Get up!" He grabs Clark by the hair and pulls him to a sitting position. 

"You're a fucking freak," he tells Clark, face inches away from Clark's. "A fucking freak!" Clark's eyes are unfocused and his lips are swollen. "You disgust me. Get up." He gives Clark's hair another pull, shoves him so that he falls to the floor. The fine chain of the kryptonite necklace glistens against his neck. Labouredly, Clark gets to his hands and knees. 

"Fuck me," he says clearly. Lex kicks him and crosses the room to where the machine's various attachments lie on a surgical table. He grabs a length of smooth metal and returns to where Clark is struggling to his feet. 

"Move," says Lex, Clark weaves like a KO'd boxer, and somehow this makes Lex so angry that he takes the metal pole and hits Clark across the small of his back with it. "Walk!" He grabs Clark, who has fallen to his knees, by the arm with his free hand, hauls him upright and pushes him into the hall. 

Clark falls again, and Lex beats him. Beats him around the face, around the head, across his back. He hears bones crack, feels them break under his weapon. Bruises bloom on Clark's fair skin like brilliant, repulsive flowers. He drops the pole and grabs Clark by the arm again, drags him down the hallway towards their bedroom. He thinks he feels Clark's shoulder dislocate. For all his weakness, Clark's still fighting him. With a final effort, Lex gets him into the bedroom and pushes him onto the bed. He lies there, moaning, while Lex pulls off his own clothes. 

The bedding is white and palest grey, the turned-back sheets crisp and cool against his skin as Lex straddles Clark. He tears the necklace off him, throws it into a far corner of the room. His cock is so hard it's painful. He forces Clark's mouth open and begins to fuck it. 

Already, the bruises are clearing from Clark's face. Lex watches the small indentation where he broke Clark's cheekbone rise and disappear as the bone heals itself. No longer weak, Clark begins to suck, his hands cupping Lex's ass. He makes soft encouraging noises in his throat. And Lex fucks his mouth viciously, hating Clark like he's never hated him before, hating him for being beautiful, for all the years of mistrust, for taking his father away from him, for putting Lana first. For being invulnerable. For not being pure. 

Lex comes in Clark's beautiful, dirty mouth and watches his lover's black lashes flutter against his perfect, unbreakable cheekbones. He withdraws, and slaps him again. Lightly, this time. Clark opens his eyes, sleepily, and smiles up at him. 

"I love you," he says. 

"I can't do this." 

"I need you to." 

"I won't." 

"It was a baby, Lex. Just a baby. It died." 

"It wasn't your fault, Clark." 

"It died because I saved its mother. I couldn't choose. I waited a fraction of a second too long and it died. Lex, this is a part of me. I need to feel, I need the pain...." 

"You don't need the pain!" Lex snaps. "You don't know what pain is. It's a toy to you. A way you can play at being human. You're not human, Clark, you're an alien with a saviour complex. And sometimes you fail. Accept it." 

"You don't." 

Lex is silent for a moment. "It's not the same." 

They get into bed, Clark shifting to pull back the covers, and lie, tangled in each other's limbs. Clark runs his fingers lightly across Lex's skull, strokes the fine bare skin at his nape. Lex can feel the tension sliding out of him. He presses closer, enjoying the familiar texture of Clark's skin against his cheek. Clark smells of himself, of come and of blood. 

"You should shower," Lex says, stifling a yawn. 

"Mmm. Do you want me to?" 

"Later. I'm going to sleep." He tightens his arm around Clark's waist, indicating Clark should sleep too. 

"Is it late?" Clark asks. 

"Not that late. Day, still. You should sleep." 

They lie face to face, close as twins, breathing each other's breath. 

"Clark, I can't save you from your demons and that scares me." 

"Nobody can. Save me. I used to think maybe Lana, or you. Mom and Dad never could, and I never wanted them to, not once I found out what I was. Lex, this is who I am. Just like Kal is who I am, and the guy who pulled you out of that car is me, too. I won't do it any more if you hate it." 

"I want you not to want it. I want to save you, I want it to be me." 

Because you saved me once, Lex thinks. Because in spite of everything, I am nothing without you and you make me whole. Because you broke down the wall around my heart, and now you live inside me, and I can't bear the thought of how it will be if I lose you, if you drive me away or you die. 

"I love you," he says, and wonders for the millionth time why those words are still so apt, when they have to encompass so much resentment and sorrow and pain. Because they're true, he thinks, sleepily, and he feels rather than hears Clark whisper them back against his temple. Because they're true. 


End file.
